ObservingControl
by Eyeneversleep
Summary: Two months after Inception and Eames can't get the job or a certain someone out of his mind. He sets out to observe him and it quickly turns into a battle for control and who will "come out on top"-literally. M for language/scenes. Last chapter is up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N-This is my first fan fic. Please review! Thanks so much!

Observing/Control

Chapter 1

He wasn't my type. At least I tried to tell myself this as best as could.

The slicked back, perfect hair, the expensive tailored suits, barely opening his minute mouth unless spoken to, his slender figure and his cool, calculating dark eyes.

No, none of it was right. He was about five years younger than me and American too for God sakes! I never did well with a young American-cocky bastards.

I didn't think I had a type but he definitely was not it.

He was uptight, stuffy, lost in his own head, never gave me the time of day and oh yes absolutely gorgeous.

I went for men (or women) whichever struck my fancy that were damaged goods and easy. The bleeding heart types that were oozing poetry and sad songs, emotionally shredded and were a complete mess. Maybe I thought it was my duty to right them? I never stuck around long enough to find out. They weren't a challenge.

I was up for a challenge. I blamed the excess adrenaline from the last job.

I was always the one pursuing, never the one pursued. I had gotten used to it. I had to lose myself in someone else by smothering them and taking control. I was the one that had to take the reigns over the weak and broken hearted that I always had on my arm and in my bed.

He wasn't like that. He was control. Everything about him was perfect, cool and in order at all times. He never showed weakness. He was diligent and a details man. I would never admit it to him because he was so damn annoying and smug at times but he was the perfect point man. I could see why Cobb trusted him so fully.

No, it wasn't right. He wasn't right. Everything about him screamed: "wrong". So why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

I tried so hard to bury it. After the inception job we all went our separate ways-anonymity and protection was still number one priority after a job especially after long and difficult ones. It's been two months since the Fischer job. I was still riding high of feeling invincible-I had never had such a complex job as a forger and was tested to my full abilities to fight off projections and security. I was scared and angry at Cobb for not telling us the full risks but I had to admit it was thrilling, a rush. I felt like nothing could touch me. The money didn't hurt either. Saito paid us handsomely for the job maybe even more than he originally planned because of the increased risks. Or maybe not. The rich old bastard basically shat gold.

I was a jittery ball of energy and nerves after the job, flittering from place to place. Trying to burn off the residual effects of the inception job like I was running a marathon. I was running from him too and his damn dark eyes, his smug American accent and smirk of a smile but he was everywhere. In every bar, every casino, every hotel, every airport like he entered my mind and planted inception that I should only think of him. Some drunken nights I crazily thought he did but I desperately clutched my totem-my poker chip and relaxation came but only for a short time.

I think I had a new lover every week. I didn't know if I was trying to prove a point or if I was just that messed up in the head over him. Every woman or man I took to bed wasn't satisfying and I only imagined it was him as I fucked them.

I thought I might be going crazy. Was this one of the after effects of such a dangerous and intense job? Maybe by going through all those layers of dreams something inside me snapped? Inception wasn't done for a reason and now I knew why.

And then there were the dreams. I didn't dream much anymore but when I did my dreams were always of him. His slight crooked smile as he looked over his shoulder at me, prepping his machine gun, happy as a school boy. Draping his tailored suit coat over his shoulder, his back to me as he walked the length of our old warehouse slowly, throwing his dice, his totem into the air and catching it perfectly in his palm a second later. Bent over a rusty, ancient desk in the corner of the dark warehouse, brows furrowed, back hunched over as he went through papers and files meticulously. His warm laugh as Cobb whispered something to him, something from the old days. He only laughed with Cobb but when I witnessed it, heard it; it was like my heart was set afire.

I realized these weren't dreams-they were memories.

I always woke from these in a pile of sweat and bed sheets, gasping for breath, scrambling desperately for my totem in the darkness.

I only had to think of Cobb and Saito getting sent to limbo and barely making it back and I panicked thinking I too was living (or dreaming) in limbo, haunted by the constant loop of memories of him. Feeling the familiar weight of the poker chip brought me back to my senses but it never settled me in terms of bringing me back to a sensible reality.

It was all his fault.

I was the pursuer, the forger and I had control. He wasn't allowed to take hold of me like this.

I tried to find new jobs, to lose myself in the work. I took what I could get. Cobb wasn't the only extractor in the business and I had worked with others before. The jobs didn't last long and frankly were quite boring and trite and the pay was shit too. I wasn't doing it for the money though. I wanted the escape and to keep my mind occupied which they did neither.

I was everywhere and nowhere in those two months, never staying long enough to remember much. Gambling and alcohol tended to help fill the holes that were in my head but it brought me so much trouble.

I got kicked out of another hotel, in Spain this time. I was so disorientated I didn't know which way was up or down. I remembered a prostitute was involved or was it the party in the hotel room from the night before?

I was sitting on the curb, the whole world swirling. My face was mashed in. I was bleeding all over the place. A fag was dangling from my mouth, I wasn't sure if it was even lit. I had one suitcase to my name and I felt dreadfully sick.

_How the hell did I get to this point?_ I was able to ask myself through the fog of pain and whiskey.

I decided this was it. This was the last straw, my breaking point. I had tried everything in my power to forget him and nothing worked. I had stayed away as long as I could. I had to see him. Even if I was shot down face to face it didn't matter because I was at my wits end all ready. I had to try.

Once I was sober enough I would figure out a plan. I was a forger after all-I would think of something. I could prove that I was smarter than him.

I phoned Yusuf from a pay phone the next day. He revealed Arthur had been keeping in touch with him which frankly I was a little hurt by. Were they all still buddy-buddy and forgot all about ol' Eames?

Both him and Cobb had settled back home in America he told me. They were lying low, taking time off.

Apparently they all were. Ariadne was back in school, Miles was still teaching but took trips to America to visit his family every so often, Saito was vacationing in Switzerland and Yusuf was leaving the shop to a relative to look after as he was building a new home with his shit load of money from the inception job. I was envious of them all. How could they all do it? How could they all sit still and lie low? Sit on their hands and be content with waiting? Living the life outside the dream world. The whole thing was infuriating! I managed to keep my voice even and cool as I faked interest in what Yusuf and the others were doing with their happy selves. When I was able to get a word in edgewise I casually asked where Cobb and Arthur were living these days. Yusuf though that Arthur was back in New York and Cobb was at home in LA. I laid out some subtle hints that maybe we could all get back together for another job. Yusuf just laughed and said: "In your dreams."

Oh if only you knew the half of it my friend…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I had been very serious about my interest in getting the ol' gang back together but maybe they needed more time. More time to remember that real life was so mundane, so ordinary and so boring.

Cobb was probably retired in his mind. This I could understand but the rest of them?

We were like gods! We built things and saw things that's others could never really grasp!

I understood now what the old war vets went through. I too felt like I needed to share the experience with the people that understood it and in a way inception did feel like a war. We were bonded over the traumatic and surreal experience.

Maybe that's why I needed to see him. Just to remind myself that there were others like myself and felt that same way. I was never very good at convincing myself. There were other more obvious selfish reasons as well.

I could have gone to Cobb-he would have welcomed me and listened to me but I didn't want to bother him because he was with his kids now. Again I was trying oh so hard to convince myself that Arthur was the only logically choice. I grinned to myself hugely, completely satisfied with the revelation.

It didn't take long for the private investigators to find him.

I didn't feel comfortable asking Yusuf for Arthur's exact address if he had it and where would the fun in that be? Arthur couldn't find out about my impromptu visit to the States at least not right away.

He was living in the expensive Central Park West area of New York -I expected nothing less from the man that oozed style and class. The PI sent me a picture of his building through email. The building was towering and impressive. He of course lived in one of the top floor penthouses. I was convinced this was one of his many flats and homes he owned. He was a drifter like myself but he always set himself up so well.

I tapped the picture thinking how I was going to do this. I had to tread carefully and I really didn't want to hurt the chap.

After hours of mulling things over pieces began to come together like a scattered puzzle.

I threw the picture in my briefcase letting it fall in like a lost leaf on the wind to be snatched up by a dark cave.

_I'm coming for you luv._

I had earned a reputation of a being a good forger by observing people. This sounds easier than it really is.

It's not like watching people walk past you in a crowded shopping mall or a park. "People watching" as it is sometimes called. It's taking in their every move and mannerism, their ticks, they way they carry themselves, their speech patterns, their styles of clothes, their moods , their interactions with different people and their mind sets. How could I possibly observe all these things you ask? With lots and lots of practice darling. Some people are open books, an open and shut case. While others are so complex and hard to read I feel by observing I am barely scratching the surface and the rest of what I don't know I fudge and hope it works for the best. This is the same for extraction jobs-some are endlessly open while others are painfully complex. For jobs of extraction-ranging in the scales of difficulty I would observe someone maybe for a few days to a couple weeks to really grasp what kind of person they were. For the Fischer job since it was the dicey game of inception I spent about two months observing Fischer's uncle. Luck was not an option.

If I was so good at observing people why did I feel I couldn't observe Arthur? I sheepishly barely knew him and I didn't know what he really liked. Most people that attached themselves to me after I pursued them were an open book. I didn't have to pry too much for them to tell me their whole life story. They spilled all their heartache and angst to me in a rush.

And who could resist my face really?

He was different. He never talked about himself ever. He ignored all my advances (as half assed and silly as they were), he played dumb to my affections, and he didn't give me the time of day with my stories and jokes. Hell, he barely acknowledged me-only to shoot me those smoldering death looks when I pissed him off.

I felt like running through the warehouse naked just to get him to look at me but then I would probably be in some padded room by now-my colleagues would have had me committed thinking I was totally bonkers. And I am. No doubt about it. I could have very easily asked Cobb about Arthur but he would know something was up.

That's why I set about observing Arthur like he was a job and like I was a regular nut case or stalker. There should be special places for people like me. I thought of limbo and shuddered.

It was all in an attempt to find out what he liked so I could "woo" him of sorts. Daniel Eames was not the type of man to woo anyone or anything. I was very messed up in the head and had a lot of time on my hands until my colleagues deemed it the right time to contact me, gather together and possibly do another job.

And I knew-oh boy did I know that if he ever found out that I would be riding the train to limboville so fast that it would make my head spin. Or he would kill me-whichever happened first. Maybe both if that was even possible? He would bring the whole team down on me hell maybe the whole world.

I was taking a huge risk but I was at my last tethers.

He was worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He indulged in all the finer things. I was thinking of him less of a man and more like a prince or some sort of royalty. He never stepped out in t-shirts and jeans-I was beginning to think he didn't own any. Is that even possible? I imagined him in a three piece suit at all times, even lounging around on a lazy Sunday morning in slippers with a newspaper under his arm and coffee.

He only ate at fine restaurants-no burgers or dive bars for him. He attended an opera at the gorgeous Metropolitan opera house one evening and he cried! I was sitting a couple rows away from him and I saw the beginnings of tears roll down his sweet face. Did the opera really strike a chord with him or was he really that soft?

The only time I ever saw his sensitive side was when he was playing tour guide for Ariadne and when he asked Cobb about his children. His tense face would smooth and his eyes would crease ever so slightly and shone brightly. I knew somewhere deep down he was very kind and sweet but his perfect outside, his impenetrable, harsh shell never once showed it to me personally.

I was going to crack that nut. And boy did I want that nut.

He was a homebody a lot of the time. I saw through my telescopic lens (yes we needed even more of a reason to think I was a stalker) from a hotel room I stayed in a few nights across the street from his building that he lounged in his easy chair (in a robe-ok, so I was wrong the man does own comfortable "off" clothes) reading or writing in a moleskin diary. He wore reading glasses, squinting his eyes at the page by the fake firelight drinking his expensive wines.

When he was feeling feisty I supposed he would go to the shooting range presumably to keep himself active and the poor fuck just really like holding a gun as I've witnessed before in the field. He drove fast luxury cars and he practiced martial arts at a dojo in Staten Island. He shopped for hours in little expensive shops for his exquisite tailored suits. He visited galleries in Soho silently taking the art in. He sat for hours in the library reading Hemingway, Thoreau and Dickens_._ He was driving me quite mad. He was a machine. Sometimes I wondered if I was pining after a robot.

He never had a date or a visitor. It was quite sad really. I kept expecting some exquisitely dressed female in a long shimmering dress, donning a mink coat with diamonds and pearls or a tall, stylish gentleman in a Gucci suit with thousand dollar polished shoes to be ringing his flat but they weren't. Where were the lavish parties? The late nights? The celebrating of being alive after such a draining and life threatening job? Where was his family? Why was he holed up in one place?

I realized with slow dismay that he wasn't living, he was existing. He was happiest and most alive doing the jobs just like I was. He was just filling the void until the next job came. We shared that much in common at least.

Why was he so pinched and uptight during the jobs then? If he was in his comfort zone, his happy place then why didn't he let loose a little then? He never showed weakness, never. Not even when he was supposed to be relaxing and "off" he was still on.

Maybe he was a god damn robot after all.

The poor man never let loose. He had everything you could ever ask for in one of the greatest cities in the world but he was alone, bored and he looked absolutely miserable.

Just like me.

After the third week I had just about enough. Though I learned some things about him there was nothing in the world I could give Arthur Marek. He had everything a man could want. Well I had chaos. Maybe a little disorder would do him good.

I changed about fourteen times. He always hated my clothes anyway so I didn't know why I even bothered. I checked my reflection probably about 500 times. I had gotten my hair trimmed the day before and had let my facial hair grow out a bit wandering from my normal slight stubble. I contemplated shaving it. I frowned at my reflection for a time. In the end I decided to leave it. He loved things to be perfect but I quite fancied the little scruff I had going on. Checked my teeth, checked my breath, checked my tie, checked my hair again and then my shoes which I changed a few times before settling on my cleanest black oxfords.

_Oh bloody hell._

I was able to tell some convincing lies to the doorman to be let up to his flat. I had been observing him as well during the process.

The lift ride to his flat was the longest in history. I was a ball of sweat by that time and I dabbed at my sweaty brow with a kerchief and wiped my big hands on my pant legs hoping I still smelled all right. I had put on my best cologne.

I had never in my life had tried so hard to impress someone. So why was I so scared?

I knocked on his door.

My heart was slamming in my chest. Would he just slam the door in my face?

_Here we go._

After the second knock and longer agonizing silence he opened the door. I just about burst at the seams in nervousness and glee seeing him face to face, up close and personal.

He was wearing the violet and cream vest, white shirt and black slacks. Every hair was perfectly slicked back. He took me in with mild apprehension, his dark eyes sweeping over my shoddy imperfect appearance, picking me apart.

"Hello darling."

"What the hell do you want?"

_Excellent, off to a great start._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Now is that any way to talk to an old comrade?"

Arthur scoffed propping an elbow on the wall, leaning his head into his fist.

"I'm not even going to ask how you found me. You bribed the doorman didn't you?"

I waggled my eyebrows. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"What do you want?" He snapped.

I put my hands out for a truce.

"Let's not get hasty darling. I was merely dropping in on an old friend."

Arthur hissed angrily in frustration.

"Old friend?"

He got me there. We never established anything like a friendship. I felt so flustered. I felt I was tripping over my words. I didn't know what to say. Everything seemed wrong somehow.

I cleared my throat to buy some more time looking down at my scuffed shoes.

"I haven't heard from anyone in all this time. When you share an experience like that I guess you just need to talk about it."

He gave me a look that I couldn't comprehend. It seemed far away. It was half disbelieving and half something else.

"You could have just called."

"Fine. Right. Can I come in then?" I was sweating bullets and I gestured to inside his luxurious flat.

He narrowed his eyes. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I thought for half a minute that he would turn me away. All my hard work down the loo.

He sighed heavily.

He opened the door wider begrudgingly. He theatrically motioned for me to come in.

"Still doesn't explain why you're here," he mumbled as I crossed the threshold and squeezed past him.

His flat was more glamorous and pristine in person then it was from the telescopic lens and the pictures from the PI. Those didn't do it justice at all.

I whistled in amazement at the expansive, high ceilings, sprawling space, high end and modern Italian furniture. Everything was so clean, so bright, so Arthur.

I went around the great room with the fake gas fireplace picking up this and that trying to get a better idea of who the man Arthur Marek really was.

He was at my side suddenly, gripping my hand that held some expensive looking vase. His touch scared the Jesus out of me and I nearly dropped the vase in surprise.

I fumbled with it clumsily for a few seconds but he caught it just at the last moment and with a dissatisfied grunt he placed the vase back in place.

He whirled around to face me, his face twisted up in a snarl.

"Do not touch anything. Just sit down for Christ sakes."

I had forgotten how adorable he was when he was angry and his American accent came out stronger. I stifled back a laugh.

He ran a hand through his perfect hair and I took a seat at once as he instructed. I sat in the easy chair in an attempt to get another reaction out of him but it didn't work.

He was pinched and uptight again just like all those times working alongside each other in the warehouse. A clock too tightly wound.

He perched himself on the edge of the white sofa across from me, hands on his knees looking fiercely serious.

We stared at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds. I was taking him in fully. Despite his scowl he looked ravishing like he was doing a photo shoot in his fancy sky rise penthouse for some magazine cover.

"Shoot," he said after a moment, apparently tired of waiting.

I cleared my throat and brought myself back to the present.

"Right then." I looked around the expansive, sickly clean greatness uncomfortably.

"Don't you think we should go somewhere to talk it's a bit stuffy in here?"

He released a blurted sarcastic laugh.

"You insist on coming into my home and now you're insulting it? You never cease to amaze me Eames."

_Damn, it didn't matter what I said. Insert foot in mouth._

"I...," I struggled.

"Just tell me what you want," he snapped.

Boy, that's a loaded question.

I leaned towards him, clasping my sweaty hands together.

"Arthur, I'm sorry. I would have gone to Cobb but I didn't want to bother him when he was catching up with his kids. You're right I should have called first. I'm just having a tough time dealing with the inception job. Like post traumatic stress or something I guess mate. I agitated you. I'll leave."

I was being half serious. I was having a tough time dealing with the inception job but I knew it wasn't stress-I just wanted to do it again and I was restless with waiting, waiting for the team to be ready. I didn't know why I thought seeing him was going to work. I only successfully did what I always did-piss him off and hurt myself in the process.

I got up, dusting my bum off out of habit and made my way to the door.

Arthur was up and intercepting me before I got there.

"It is stuffy in here. Let's go get a drink. You got a car?" Arthur was grabbing his jacket.

I shook my head.

I felt dumfounded like someone hit me over the head. Was he really leading me out of his flat into the lift and out of the building to the garage?

He moved with quiet, commanding authority. He was used to being in charge, in a big city, planning things. Well, so was I.

It took all my willpower not to stare at his small tight ass in his perfectly cut dress slacks as he walked swiftly in front of me.

He was torturing me.

He took the BMW. I felt giddy as a schoolboy. I felt like James Bond.

I wanted to compliment him on his tastes but I knew he didn't want to hear it.

I stayed closed mouthed which was equally as hard as not staring at him. I was a jittery, bouncy fool.

I couldn't be myself. I was beginning to think this was a very bad idea indeed.

Arthur seemed to pick up on it as he drove fast and crazy.

"I've never seen you so quiet. You really must have been traumatized."

I knew it was supposed to be a little jab but he said it so dead-pan.

I just fidgeted in my seat like an idiot, making little comments and jokes, sweating profusely and letting him drive me wherever he wanted to go.

I needed a drink, immediately if not sooner.

The drive was short. The bar was upscale of course. I had seen him go to this grandiose hotel bar by himself one evening. I followed him in with a shoddy disguise.

It was so eerie the first time I was there, acting like a criminal, trying to hide from everyone. Walking in now with him I felt like a million bucks.

If only I could actually be myself. I still felt slightly uneasy.

I told him I was buying even though he looked like he was going to put up a fight over it. He did agree to it after a while. I thought it was sweet. Maybe my little speech about being traumatized pulled at his heart strings.

I almost ordered his favorite wine but I stopped myself right before. If I did he surely would know I was following him. I got him a red wine (something he probably would hate) and myself a beer.

The alcohol loosened me up a bit and I was able to spill to him the experience of the snow fortress world, my part of the dream in the Fischer job. At first I thought I was telling the story for Arthur but after regaling it I realized I was telling it for myself. It felt fantastic to be able to relate to someone that I knew would understand and offer input.

He listened with quiet interest-looking impassive. I'm sure he heard the whole story from Cobb, Saito or Ariadne all ready but he showed no signs of being too bored.

After our second drink he opened up more, his face taking on a slightly rosier complexion.

He regaled the experiences of his dream of the hotel and how he had to produce the kick in zero gravity. He told the enthralling story well. I almost grinned at the way he thought so highly of himself.

He insisted on getting the next round. I got the feeling he was almost enjoying himself-letting go a little.

This was the Arthur I wanted to see-one outside his comfort zone, interacting with people socially, dropping his guard, being himself if that was possible.

I'm not sure how but discussion moved away from inception and the jobs we've undertaken to lighter topics. I asked him about New York and he in turn feigned interest in where I was staying. He told me a couple funny stories of him and Cobb back in the old days.

I chanced a joke after that. I was feeling pretty good by then and he was a lot looser too.

He laughed. It was the first time I had successfully made him laugh and he laughed deeply. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and heard.

I had his full attention now too and I felt strange. I wanted his attention, needed it but was scared of it at the same time.

I feigned having to use the loo just so he would stop watching me so intensely.

I splashed cold water on my face in an attempt to revive and calm myself down. I chanced a look in the mirror-it was a bad idea because I looked like I had seen a ghost.

_Keep it together Eames._

I gave myself a little pep talk pacing back and forth, telling myself that I just had to go with it. I had to treat this like a job. This was all an attempt to get to know him better-to feel him out. I was still observing.

We had fresh drinks when I came back.

_Oh Jesus._

Then he was challenging me-saying he could drink me under the table. This definitely was not the Arthur I knew. I was caught off guard. Who was observing who?

I took the challenge and I lost, horribly.

That little man could drink! I was almost ashamed.

We were getting silly by that time. Things got a little fuzzy.

I wanted to touch him, kiss him, have him on my lap, just have him close and I was getting hard just looking at him.

He was taking me in with those big, dark eyes, it was torture.

We were like best friends when we were leaving-the bartender kicking us out because it was closing time. Nothing like shots to do that to two grown men.

I was vaguely aware that we had our arms around each other, stumbling around. I wasn't sure who was supporting who.

He was steering us to the direction of the car but since I was apparently the more sober one (yeah right) I said we were going to take a cab. I steered us sloppily to the direction of the street.

He was slurring something incoherently but let me lead him into the cab.

And then the cab ride.

He rested his head on my shoulder. I felt like my whole body was on fire. My heart was beating at a furiously fast, scary pace.

I was afraid to speak, to move, to breathe, to lose the moment.

You live for moments like that-when time literally stops and you want to stop breathing, stop blinking just to be able to be in the moment, to really live in it and not disturb anything.

He was inches away from my face. I felt his warm breath on my jacket. I took in the slope of his nose, the lines and creases under his eyes, his small ears, and his smooth lips parting in a breath.

God, it was too much.

It was too short of a cab ride. I wanted to keep driving until morning and even past that.

I shifted in my seat to reach my wallet to pay the driver. I unfortunately jostled him a little and his eyes fluttered open. I was hoping I could have the honor of carrying him up to his flat and tucking him into his big bed. He seemed a little discombobulated and confused, stretching and looking all around. I chanced a look at him again after I paid the driver and he greeted me with The Look.

The Look which is defined as being completely vulnerable and open. He was looking at me like he was really looking at me for the first time and was waiting for something, expecting something. This was the moment I had been working so painstakingly hard for, waiting for. I saw a version of Arthur totally stripped down to the essential core and he was just a man-a man with desires.

I did the most logical thing that I could do. I ran.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I mumbled some shoddy thanks and goodbye and left without a backwards glance.

Why? Why did I come this far, observe this man for so long, invest so much time, energy and money trying to figure out what the bloody hell he likes and then given the right opportunity to go in for the kill just up and flee?

I was scared. Arthur scared me like nothing else I had ever encountered. No extraction or inception job could top him and I couldn't explain the fear.

I walked the barren, dark streets, half drunk thinking of my night in Spain where I felt that I was at my last straw. I figured I always would be.

I didn't deserve anybody-I was a mess. What was I trying to prove? That I would get him so falling down drunk that he would end up in bed with me just like all the others? That I would feign interest in all his silly, high class endeavors and we would casually play house living in his thirtieth floor penthouse?

I was a fool. I didn't deserve him.

I didn't even know how I made it back to my hotel. It felt like I was wandering around for days in a city I wasn't too familiar with.

It was all ready morning by the time I made it back to my room.

I loosened my tie with the intention of taking it off but just left it. I did manage to shuck my shoes off before falling face first into the big bed.

I awoke to something blaring at me. After much fumbling around with my eyes still closed I realized it was my mobile in my pocket. Who in the right mind would be calling me? I spied the bedside clock with bleary, crusty eyes. It was a little after two in the afternoon. _Well ok._

I felt like I had been hit by a truck. My mind was trying to desperately cut through my hung over state.

I picked up the blaring mobile just so it would shut up. My head felt like it was ringing from it.

"Hello?" My voice sounded as terrible as I felt.

"You need to stay away from him," a gruff male voice instructed.

"What? Who are you?" My mind was processing things at a very slow rate.

"Stay away from him," the voice repeated and hung up abruptly.

I stared at my mobile for a few seconds in disbelief. It was a private number so I had nothing to go on in terms of calling them back.

I thought maybe it was a bad joke. Maybe Cobb or even Arthur himself was doing this to get back at me.

All the more reason for me to leave this town.

I tried to go back to sleep and ignore the nagging feeling I was getting in my gut but I couldn't. I tossed and turned in my rumpled suit from the night before.

Thinking about what I did, what I did to him released a groan from the back of my throat. I had him but I ran away.

I begrudgingly got up and got ready-it took me a long time. I began throwing things into my suitcase in a lame effort to pack and was going to jump on my laptop to book a flight back to London.

_You failed your mission soldier._

I thought about stopping by and apologizing to him-to say goodbye but I really didn't have it in me. I had successfully emotionally abused myself to the nth degree.

I booked my flight and sat in the now looming, empty darkness of my hotel room.

My flight wasn't for three hours and I had nothing to do.

I decided to take a walk. Might as well take in the sights one last time since I didn't think I would be back to New York anytime soon.

I was still hung over and no prairie oysters or pain reliever was going to make it go away. I think it was stuck to my very bones it was so bad.

My feet took me to the hotel that Arthur and I were the evening before. I hadn't even realized I had walked that far. I was so lost in my own miserable thoughts. I laughed to myself in disbelief.

I began the long walk back and that's when I was hit over the head. Thankfully it was not hard enough to knock me out but it stunned the hell out of me and it hurt like bloody hell. The cold concrete came up to meet me.

I thought madly for a brief moment that I was being mugged but it was a little too early in the evening for that. I had been alone in the Underground in London at night where there had been mugging attempts on me before. I knew what mugging was like. This wasn't it.

These suckers didn't know who they were messing with. I had spent five years in the military. I knew how to fight.

I got up as quickly as I could and whirled around to face my attackers. These definitely weren't muggers. They were dressed upscale with long black coats. They had sunglasses on and were muscular- trained soldier types. Maybe mobsters or personal security for someone? I wasn't expecting this kind of ambush especially in the middle of the street. I guess that's why they call it an ambush. My mind immediately went to the extraction jobs I had taken a few weeks before. I wondered if this was payback.

They were quick and strong. They took advantage of my stunned state after being hit over the head. I couldn't react quickly enough. One punched me in the gut while another threw a sack over my head. Jesus Christ I was being kidnapped! I punched, lashed out, kicked anything that came close to me but my hands were bound tightly after a few seconds and I felt an injection on my neck.

I felt like I was in the inception job, that I was Fischer.

Maybe they found me? Maybe this is payback for that?

Blackness swallowed me up before I could finish another thought.

I woke to a rude slap on my face.

My vision was swirling. I blinked rapidly for a few seconds to try to right it.

My kidnappers were standing in a semi circle around me. One solitary bare light bulb was hanging from the low ceiling-the only light source. The light bulb was hanging down by a wire, swinging slightly, casting an eerie glow on my attackers. It was cold and damp wherever I was. A cellar or a basement maybe. I heard water dripping somewhere. I tried to move my stiff limbs but I realized they were tied to the chair I was sitting on. I felt like I was coming out of an induced sleep-oh that's right because I was. Insert groan and expletives here.

"Why are you following him?"

I didn't know which one had asked it. My attention was on my surroundings and my tied up state. I was observing, trying to figure out how I was going to get out of this mess.

I decided playing dumb was a good idea and really I didn't know for sure what they were asking anyway.

"What are you talking about?"

I was smacked hard across the face.

I tasted the rusty flavor of blood in my mouth.

"We will not ask you again. Answer the question."

"Go to hell."

I was kneed hard in the gut. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me.

"Answer the question!"

"No," it came out in a wheezy whisper.

I was beaten a little more severely after that.

_Motherfuckers made me miss my flight._

Then I heard it.

"Eames?"

_Good God._

"Eames?" he shouted more desperately, his voice echoing closer.

_Please no._

Arthur was dragged by two men into my line of view. In the little light there was it looked like he had been beaten too. He also was tied up.

_This is not good._

This was definitely payback for the inception job. I'm not sure how Fischer found us but he was very powerful, resourceful and wealthy. Had he found all my friends? I was getting scared that my other comrades were being interrogated and beaten in their hometowns as well.

I felt powerless to watch the kidnappers slap Arthur hard across the face. He looked as bad as I felt.

"Stop."

This went against kidnapping rule number 1-you should not give in to the demands of the kidnappers even if they threatened friends and loved ones. A lot of times it was a bluff and they could kill you anyway after they got the information they wanted. I wasn't sure if Fischer would go that far but I had to assume.

I couldn't help myself from telling them to stop. I wanted this charade to end. I wanted off this merry-go-round of hurt, confusion and disappointment and I really did not like seeing him beat up.

I was going to berate myself further for giving in so quickly but I didn't have time. There would be time for that later after I was dead.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything became very still. It was a strange moment of the kidnappers staring me down behind their sunglasses, Arthur struggling pathetically against the man that held him and looking at me through swollen eyes as the light bulb swung slowly back and forth. I'm not sure if they were waiting for me to say something else or if this was part of the torture.

When the long moment passed and they figured I wasn't talking one of them got right in my face.

"Why were you in New York? Answer the question or else he dies."

They didn't have to say who. I knew. They knew. They all bloody knew. How they knew I wasn't sure. All signs pointed to Fischer.

I couldn't look at him. I felt his dark eyes boring into me but I kept mine trained on the kidnapper.

I was a huge ball of terror, helplessness, confusion, anger and despair. I had pretty much successfully backed myself into a corner and I couldn't get out.

I kept my eyes locked on the kidnapper. I tried to give him my best steely eyed, cold look. I jerked my head towards Arthur.

"For him."

The kidnapper's face was hard as stone but his mouth twitched and turned up into a little snarl.

"What do you mean 'for him'?"

My God what was the point of these relentless, pointless questions? I wanted to ask HIM a few questions of my own-the most important one being: "Why aren't you getting to the point?" or "Why haven't you just killed me and my friend yet?"

I thought briefly about just giving up. I was at a point where I almost didn't care what happened to me. I had accomplished nothing by coming to New York and observing him. I only brought him more pain.

I closed my eyes. I heard him cry out in pain. My eyes flew open. They did something to him. He was on the floor curled into the fetal position. I imagined he would be cradling whatever was ailing him if he could.

Rage rippled through me, taking over like it was a new layer of skin. I couldn't give up. As much as I didn't care about myself I did still care about what happened to him. I started to yank inconspicuously at the ropes that were binding my hands. I felt them ease up a little as I tugged. Luckily there wasn't much light in the room and my hands were behind the back of the chair, out of sight of my kidnappers.

"I'll tell you whatever you want. Just leave him alone," I tried to sound as calm and confident as I could but I literally was gritting my teeth and was sweating bullets of nervousness. I felt one of the ropes loosen.

The kidnappers were watching me closely. I wondered what they saw. A desperate, pathetic, tired, cowardly, beat up, lovesick man? That's not how I wanted to go out. I wanted to go out fighting.

I chanced a look at him. He was watching me from his crumbled position on the ground with a queer expression (no pun intended). He was still in pain but he looked almost sad. I couldn't bare it. This had to end. I didn't want his pity.

"Just shoot me and get it over with," I spat blood on the ground hoping it would hit one of their shoes. The ropes were coming undone now though I kept my hands very still behind the chair. I might have a scrap of a chance but I needed to time things perfectly.

The kidnappers looked to each other then as if to say: "Now what do we do with him?" They probably would scratch their heads and shrug if this was a normal quandary. This was anything but normal.

Before I knew what was happening one of them had Arthur up, in a head lock of sorts and had a gun dug deep into his temple. Arthur's dark eyes grew huge in fear. I had never seen him show weakness like that. I would almost feel pleased if it wasn't so completely terrifying at the same time.

"We rather shoot him and get this over with. He refuses to talk though. We know he was one of the main people that orchestrated it."

"Stop," it was weak and pathetic to my ears. I needed them distracted so I could free my ankles that were also tied to the chair.

The kidnapper seemed to dig the gun barrel deeper into his skull.

He looked at me and back to Arthur. "Why should I?"

Arthur's eyes were bulging, pleading with me as if they were saying: "Do something you idiot!"

_Oh bloody hell._

I gave him a slight nod hoping to hell that he was understanding me. We never really worked that well together in the field like that. It was always him and Cobb that were like well oiled machines that seemed to read each other's minds and play off each other. Even during the Fischer job where we didn't work together side by side that much he still seemed to be annoyed by me. He just didn't like that I had a bigger gun. He loved his bloody guns.

We were staring at each other now-in a deadlock. I was trying to interpret what he was saying silently to me with his eyes. He gave a quick glance to the kidnapper that was pointing the gun to his head, motioning to him with his eyes and I gave a slight nod back in understanding.

_I really hope this works._

I shrugged and gave a huge toothy smile.

"Because if you fuck with the man I love I'll kill you darling."

At that exact moment Arthur kicked out at the man's legs, toppling him. The two men seemed to bounce right off each other, going in different directions. The gun went off but I didn't get to see if it connected because I pushed myself back letting myself in the chair fall over. It was wooden and part of the chair cracked as it hit the hard concrete floor. I flipped myself over and pried at the wood that had come off-it was one of the legs of the chair. They were on me now, grabbing for their guns. I hoped Arthur wasn't dead or else this all was for nothing. I hit one of the kidnappers square in the face as he advanced on me. The wooden chair leg connected with his head with a sickening crack. His glasses flew off and he fell to the ground, clutching his bloody face.

Two others were grabbing at me now. The bindings at my feet were loosened from me falling over and the leg of the chair coming off but I was still tangled up in the rope. A gun was pointed at me but I grabbed at his arm and twisted it back, almost breaking it. He struggled with his gun, trying to fire it but he loosened his grip, his arm twisted back at an abnormal angle. I got his gun and with one fluid motion shot the other man as he was getting ready to fire at me and kicked at the other man with the twisted arm. I was fueled by pure adrenaline now. I untangled my legs, shot the other kidnapper on the ground with the twisted arm and was stumbling towards Arthur. He was standing up as I approached him and was all ready untied which slowed me down, confused me. How did he do that so quickly?

He was dusting himself off and looking over his shoulder at me. He cocked a dark eyebrow in mild surprise.

I stopped myself short. Something was wrong. Why weren't the others rushing us? In fact where did they go?

He gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry."

Without blinking the bastard shot me right in the heart.


	7. Chapter 7

The minute I awoke from the dream after being killed I tore out the IV and wires connecting me to the PASIV machine angrily and was hurling myself at him. I didn't take one second to absorb my surroundings or who else was connected to the dream. I didn't care. All I could see was red.

"You bloody bastard."

He was sitting in a chair next to the bed I was on, undoing his own IV. I saw him give me a look of surprise before I flipped over his chair sending him backwards.

"How do YOU like it you asshole?"

I faintly realized that there were other people in the room with us; I felt movement behind me. I quickly glanced over my shoulder. There were a few men behind me- other extractors, strangers. The ones that were playing the kidnappers I assumed.

I was shaking in anger and embarrassment by then. I was advancing on Arthur ready to do something else to him-I wasn't sure what. I was held back by two of the strangers before I could get to him.

Arthur was up, dusting himself off much like in the dream. He smoothed back his tousled hair. He looked hurt, remorseful.

"I'm sorry. I had to be sure."

I was having none of that.

"Fuck you."

I rudely shook off the arms that were holding me back, did an about face and was charging towards the door. I realized as I finally took in my surrounding it was my hotel room. They had set up everything between the bedroom and the living area as I slept, fucking bastards. How dare he do this to me! Yes I had followed him, observed him but my intentions were pure. He had no right to invade my dreams and then try to extract information out of me. He made me confess my feelings! I couldn't even begin to process how he found out that I was following him, observing him. But he was Arthur; he was the great point man. He planned things and researched things all the time. I wondered how long he knew.

"Wait! Eames, hold on!"

I tore open the door and practically ran out of the hotel room like a scared and angry child. I decided to not wait and take the lift. I charged down the hallway to the stairs.

I was the definition of anger. Angry at him, his accomplices, at myself, at missing my flight (oh, right that was part of the dream, never mind) at this god damn noisy city and even our nonconventional line of work. I slowed down and stopped, reached for my totem in my jacket pocket, feeling slightly confused.

Arthur was at my side then, interrupting me, touching my arm gently, huffing and puffing for breath just like I was. He was alone; he left his entourage in the suite.

"Eames, please hold up. I want to explain."

I gave him my iciest death look and shook off his touch. I wondered faintly who would win in a hand to hand combat. I was a taller and weighed more but he was more agile and quicker. Strength wise we probably were equal. We both were muscular, kept ourselves in tip top shape, we were trained soldiers, and we had to be for our line of work. It would be a very close match. I wanted to shove him away and make a break for the stairwell. The door was about a dozen feet away.

But his damn dark eyes were pleading with me much like in the dream. Why wasn't I hurling punches at him? Why wasn't I cussing him out? I suddenly felt very tired and I still felt confused and hung over. He looked it too, he just hid it better. He always did. I realized then he was just as scared of me as I was of him, that's why he went through the trouble of extraction-he had to make sure what my intentions were just like he said.

I shook my head out of disbelief. We both were scared, pathetic fools. We were a disaster. It would never work.

"There's nothing to explain, mate. It was all a huge mistake, a misunderstanding. That's all. Now leave me be."

He suddenly hit me over the head suddenly before I could react.

"Shut up." And he was reaching for me and kissing me hungrily, again before I could react.

I didn't know if I wanted to hit him back or kiss him harder.

My confusion, anger and desire all rolled into one but the moment was totally lost to his touch and his hot mouth on mine. Everything seemed to slow down and dissolve away. We weren't in a hotel hallway anymore. We were just two people on a different plain than everyone else. My anger towards him turned to deep lust and I was instantly hard. He probably could have disgraced me and my whole entire family completely in front of the whole world but I still would accept him, fuck him, and love him.

He was exploring my mouth deeply now and I felt powerless to let him do it. One of his hands was on the back of my neck, the other was tenderly on the small of my back, clutching me close, exploring me. I clutched him tighter to me, closer still, deepening our kiss, desperately wanting him closer. I felt in our closeness that he was hard as well which in turn made me harder if that was possible.

He was backing me against a wall now, pressing up against me hard and disengaged our lip lock with a breath. I felt instantly cut off. I moved in to kiss him again, desperately wanting more but he evaded me, turning his head away slightly. He gave me The Look and nudged my nose affectionately, a sweet smile playing on his lips. He then moved to my ear while he was loosening my tie. "Let me do this for you, to apologize." I shivered at his cool breath. Before I could open my mouth to protest-to tell him in a rush that I had to apologize, all anger evaporated, he put a cool finger on my lips stopping me, looking at me gently like he knew what I wanted to say, and shaking his head. "No, darling. No apologies now. We both did wrong. Let me take control. I want to pleasure you," pure, raw emotion dripping from his words. Upon hearing the use of the pet name for him used on me I shivered all over from pleasure. I felt stunned, exposed, and completely powerless again. Daniel Eames was not one to take the backseat, to be controlled in the bedroom department. He was busy undoing my tie now. I wanted him to look at me, to give me The Look again. I realized I didn't want any other man to look at me ever again. I only wanted him. I thought in the back of my lustful mind that he should know this.

I touched his small, strong hand gently as he worked my tie off and was beginning to unbutton my shirt.

"Arthur," I moaned huskily.

"Shut up," he quickly snapped, interrupting me. He pulled at my collar and his mouth was crushing mine once again, devouring me, his hand working through my hair and scalp, making me melt further. I was exploring his muscular back, making my way slowly down to his sweet, tight ass that I loved so much and was dying to feel. He moaned in the back of his throat when my hand made it there and squeezed. I felt him stiffen. I just about blew a wad and died. As much as he wanted to take control and pleasure me I was living just to pleasure him-my last and only lover. _This is going to be a struggle, just like everything else between us._

We were squirming against each other, struggling now for control, tearing clothes, grabbing at everything at a ferocious speed. The struggle only fueled our passion and desire though and before I knew what was happening he was leading me, backing me inside a hotel room. He must have gotten a room here too. Was this all part of his plan? I was almost not surprised. We were kissing and clinging to each other desperately. I was moving to undo his vest when he pushed me onto the bed. I hadn't realized I was so close to the edge of it.

I took him in fully for the first time in a while. He was beautiful even when he wasn't trying to be perfect. He was a total mess. He was struggling for breath, sweat glistening off his brow, his hair was mussed, his lips swollen, and his clothes were un-tucked and askew. He was hard as a rock, muscles trembling and he was throwing me smoldering looks. I never wanted anyone more in my entire life.

"You're the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. You're also completely wrong for me on so many levels." I gave him my own patented smoldering look, the kind only educated, debonair British men can really give.

I was propped up on my elbows lifting myself up to grab at him when he rushed me quickly, hovering over me on top of the bed, giving me new sexy degrees of The Look. He pushed my legs farther apart with his own, sending ripples of hot pleasure throughout my whole body. He pushed them apart so that he was lying in between my open legs. His smaller, muscular body on top of mine was pure heaven. The weight of him wasn't much at all and it felt marvelous. I wanted to wrap my larger legs around him and flip him so I was on top. I was faintly aware that he pinned one my arms down to the bed as I was busy fanaticizing. He was stroking at my face, my beard with his other hand.

"I know but if you don't fuck me right now I will kill you."

No man had ever talked dirty to me like that before. I was stunned again. I almost blushed.

"Oh," I said with shock and pleasure. I really had no idea what else to say.

"Well," he stole a kiss. He moved to my ear again, pressing deeper into my body. "I'm actually going to fuck YOUR brains out and you're going to love it." He looked at me devilishly then and winked.

I realized through the fog of lust, our close bodies and desire that I would have to let this man have control, at least partially for tonight-our first time. I had to let go. I had to see what he could do. And boy-he certainly knew what he was doing so far.

So with one of my arms still pinned he nibbled on my bottom lip and unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way, he only released my arm so that he could run his hands down my chest. I couldn't help it-I released a pent up moan from the back of my throat. I had dreamed about him doing that from day one. He carefully released me of my shirt completely and he allowed me to sit up. He was kneeling on the bed facing me; I was losing myself in those dark eyes. It took all my willpower not to overpower him and wrestle him to the bed, pinning him down and smothering him in hot kisses. I knew I could do it since I outweighed him. I started to unbutton his vest when he pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closed, breath rapid, hands on my hips in the sweetest, heartbreakingly, passionate gesture that only lovers can really express. With our foreheads still touching he allowed me to shed him of his perfectly tailored vest. Then I moved to unbutton his shirt, purposely slowly and I felt him squirm and writhe with pleasure, his harsh breathing increased and he squeezed at my hips.

"Eames," he said lowly, huskily under his breath, a needing and pleading kind of way to say one's name.

I pulled him fiercely to me when I heard my name called dipped in pleasure. He was still kneeling in between my legs. I wrapped him up in my big arms and was kissing him passionately. I was aware that he was letting me take control.

_Huh_, a voice in the back of my head said. _Maybe we can share the control, the power if that's possible? Maybe that's how normal relationships work?_

I had one hand on the back of his pretty little head, the other on his back-mimicking what he was doing to me earlier in the hall.

After a moment I pushed him back into the pillows of the massive bed, towards the headboard, hovering over him this time. He was being doe eyed, complacent; letting me touch him, explore him. His hands were all over my bare back and he was moving to my pants when I stopped him.

"Not yet, luv," I whispered.

He threw me a passionate smirk, one that said: "Then go on, it's your turn to pleasure me right now but don't forget who has the real control."

I was exploring his mouth slowly this time, taking my time to feel the length of his tongue, the roof of his mouth, his perfect lips. His hands had moved to my ass which I knew was payback for earlier. He had moved between my pants and boxers and was touching my bare ass now. It took all my concentration to feel for the last buttons of his dress shirt and not cry out in pleasure. I did release some moans though which quickened our kisses. His damn dress shirt was finally off. He was still caressing my bare ass. Well, I was going to have to counter attack. If he was like any other person I was with-I knew the sweet spot or so I hoped. I bent his head to the side though he playfully resisted, he knew what was coming. I kissed and sucked at the side of his neck, where shoulder and neck met-hoping he would get big hickies, the asshole. He instantly reacted-writing with pleasure, clawing at my back and throwing nasty things my way under his breath saying: "Fuck you, stop it. Oh God, that feels good Eames. Oh God, fuck you. Oh, right there!"

He was putty in my hands.

_Jackpot._

I moved to his bony collarbone and the curve of his shoulder, leaving behind a trail of hot kisses.

And his chest. I could get lost in it. He was very pale and smooth compared to my tanner, hairier and more chiseled physique. I loved it. I loved how different he felt. He was absolutely beautiful. I mumbled as such as I continued to kiss and suck my way to his pecs. He was writhing under my body continuing to say: "Oh God Eames, yes." I ran my hands all over him, rubbing my face on his chest. I didn't care if it looked silly-I just wanted to feel him, to never forget the feeling of his body, to have it seep into my very pores. My very face had to remember his pale, hard, miraculous body so that when I slept my head under my pillow at night would remember every detail of his chest.

I was kissing him quickly, desperately then, pulling, licking and sucking on his nipples which he moaned and cried about as well.

I kissed a trail down to his navel, licking it for good measure, feeling satisfied as he squirmed helplessly underneath me; he pulled at my hair so that I would stop. But I didn't want to stop. I wanted to do anything but.

He slapped my ass hard when I didn't respond and I did stop then but only because the sting felt so damn good.

All right, so he found my proverbial weak spot then. He was laughing lightly at my stunned reaction, reached for my hair and pulled me into a kiss. Well, not to be outdone I reached for his hair as he slipped his soft tongue in, massaging mine. I was totally losing myself in him. I regained enough wits after a moment to run my hands through his thick hair deeply, pulling it gently and massaging his scalp, wanting to mess up his always perfect hair. I wanted to dirty him. He moaned in approval. I wondered if he would let me put gel in it and style it differently. I would let him do practically anything to me-even dress me which I was almost scared to admit. I think he would like that too much.

I was afraid he wouldn't like the facial hair I was growing out but he seemed to like it, he touched at it a lot affectionately which pleased me deeply. He pushed at me hard, sending me back on the bed. I laughed a little-I was almost getting used to him doing that.

He was unbuckling my belt with great fervor and then he did something totally unexpected. He said "Watch this", rushed his face to my crotch and just before I could tell him to stop he was unbuttoning my pants with his lips and teeth! I was so stunned that I felt forced to watch and feel as he undid my button with ease and then moved to my fly. I was bursting at the seams, literally as he carefully unzipped me fully. I could only cry out: "Oh," in utter shock, amazement and pleasure as I came spilling out and he was kissing my cock.

Bits and pieces were a blur after that. He shimmed my pants and boxers off with great speed and was sucking on me immediately; he had me full in his mouth-licking under me and switching to the tip. I wasn't use to this position-of lying on a bed with someone over me but it was utterly amazing. I touched his head affectionately as he worked hard and I cried out as he was tugging at me. This man knew how to work me in his mouth. He could give me one anytime, anywhere, anyplace. I all was ready anticipating when I could give him one-to return the favor. I wanted to show him what I could do.

I came quickly and a lot almost embarrassingly so-I felt the jerks and muscle spasms of the sweet release. I uttered his name as I came. I was worried at what his reaction would be. He held me close after I was done, both of us trembling slightly. "Sorry," I murmured, stroking his head as he was panting. He came up from my chest and looked at me deeply. "For what?" He shot a look at my crotch coming back smiling. "You're a lot, but I can handle a lot Eames," he winked.

"Call me Daniel."

He was searching my eyes curiously.

"Please," I mumbled.

He traced the outlines of my lips with his fingertips slowly, lightly.

"All right. Well it's my turn Danny boy." We both grinned.

I realized I really wanted to return the courtesy he just showed me. "But I want…"

He was cutting me off and kissing me once again. He apparently didn't care what I wanted. And then he was whipping off his belt. When I realized what he was doing I shoved at his hands to stop him. I wanted to do it. I came up to a kneeling position. He playfully dodged me but settled on a sitting position against the headboard of the bed giving me a playfully, toothy sexy grin. God, how could you resist that? My hands were trembling and I fumbled with the button. He tried to help me but I swatted his hands away. I didn't want his help. It gave way eventually. He was pressing his forehead to mine again, nuzzling my nose. I tried to ignore the sweet distraction but it was hard. I unzipped his fly and before he could react I had him in my mouth quickly, tasting him, he resisted and pulled at me to stop at first but after a few seconds he was moaning deeply and was raking my back. He muttered: "Stop", "Oh God" and "You bastard" but I think that was Arthur-speak for: "Please continue, that feels effing fantastic." I didn't get to taste him for long before he slapped my bare ass again; distracting me and then it was back to Arthur control. He pushed me over once again onto my stomach and was exploring my backside. He licked, tasted, bit and slapped. If I didn't know better I would think he was abusing me but oh boy did I love it.

I could hear him rustling with something. I looked over my shoulder and he was applying lube to his hand. My whole body shuddered like he had gone down on me again. I knew what was coming. He slowly entered me with one finger and I exhaled deeply shuddering: "Fuck, luv. You can do better than that." I had been with men before he didn't have to hold back. He quickly removed his finger and jammed in three which made me release a yelp of pain but was quickly replaced by hot, deep pleasure.

"Aww, that's better darling," I managed to grunt out with difficulty as he worked his fingers faster, a long string of curse words came rushing out of my mouth as he was practically slamming them into me.

He entered me and rode me hard without warning, crushing his pelvis into me, wasting no time. This was definitely not how I imagined our first time at all. I always thought after pursuing him, wining and dining him that he would bend to my will, like all the others. How wrong I was.

He came quickly screaming: "Oh Daniel" which just made me spill over with love for him more. We were a hot, sweaty, sticky mess as we both were done, spent. We had rolled off of me onto the opposite side of the big bed, staring up at the white, expansive ceiling, chest moving rapidly. I didn't know what to do then. I wanted to call out to him, reach for him, I wanted his closeness but I also didn't want to ruin the moment.

He was up and off the bed like a shot. "Be right back," he mumbled. I saw him pick up something from the floor-his pants maybe and disappeared into the other room.

I was instantly miffed.

That was it?

I had a terrorizing thought that he was getting dressed to leave right away.

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking around bewildered and was going to call out to him when he was rounding the corner, still naked thankfully, a huge smile on his face. He came back up on the big bed quickly and settled into my chest, resting his head into it, my one arm over him. I looked at him baffled. He ran a thumb down my cheek and gave me a sweet kiss when he noticed my confusion. He held up his concealed hand that was across my stomach. He was holding his loaded die, his totem. His smile grew, his dark eyes shining.

"I'm sorry. I had to be sure."

That was defiantly Arthur; he always had to be in control, to know.

But me I was different. I pulled him closer and held him tight, kissing the top of his head affectionately thinking of my poker chip, my own totem somewhere lost in the chaos of our clothes that lay on top of each other like lovers, still littered all over the floor. My life was disorderly and had no control like those clothes. I tried to control my love life but that never got me anywhere and the relationships were all the same and never worked. I looked at him then as he was nuzzling my neck sweetly, looking calm and serene, totally at peace. He let me see him vulnerable. He had let go. With him it would be different. I realized I didn't give a flying fart if this was a dream or not. I had let go as well. All our hard work had finally paid off. We knew what the other wanted-faced our fears. We were sharing our befuddled, confused versions of control. He was here with me. He was mine and I was his and no totem needed to tell me otherwise.

* * *

**A/N And our two men finally find each other! Thanks so much for sticking with me and reading this LONG/last chapter. This was my first fic but not my last. You read this far so why not review? It would be much appreciated! Again-thanks for reading! :)**


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